


Lead Poisoning

by TheThirdTimesACharm



Series: Empty Chambers [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Marriage Proposal, McGenji - Freeform, Post-Recall, Talon Jesse McCree, Unhealthy Relationships, deadeye - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirdTimesACharm/pseuds/TheThirdTimesACharm
Summary: Despite their aliases and their blatant places behind the drawn line, McCree has something of importance he finds necessary to bring up with the cyborg ninja standing next to him on the rooftop. A proposition.[Another work for the AU where Jesse McCree never joined Overwatch and went on to become a dangerous Talon operative]





	Lead Poisoning

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for liking this AU!! I know I don't reply to your comments, but, trust me, I do read them and love them all! However, I want to say that Dunks' comment really pushed me to start writing this oneshot and getting it posted. Absolutely loved your words. Thanks so much for liking my writing!
> 
> Again, I'm sorry if anyone seems out of character. I try my best to write them, and I always over-worry myself with that aspect. I really do try, and hopefully this oneshot is just as likeable as the others. :)
> 
> P.S. Oh! Just letting you know these oneshots do skip times. Some short time from the other, some longer times. This oneshot is some time further in the future from the previous oneshot, so Genji and Deadeye are quite "used" to each other by this point. Just in case you're confused by their familiarity.

Genji clicked his tongue, dissatisfied with the results panned out before him. Even amongst the entertaining flashing lights and ringing chimes filling the air. The noise seemed to zone out the more the cyborg simply _lost_.

“Run a string of bad luck?”

Genji turned his slumped form toward the contestant seated at the slot machine next to his. The man had just turned the lever, the ending results much better than what the cyborg had been left with.

With a sigh, Genji leaned back, hands rubbing his thighs. “Hai, hai,” he bemoaned like an irate teenager. “Certainly not one of my best nights.”

The man gave him pitied expressions, even turning to glance back at the flashy clock displayed along the back wall. With a smile he looked back toward Genji, motioning to the time. “It is not even that late in the day. Perhaps you will rise from the ashes, mi amigo.”

Genji offered the man a small twitching smile for his optimism and apparent desire to help a fellow player out of their rut. But he, unfortunately, would have to drag this sympathetic Spaniard down along with him in this reality.

“I’m afraid I’ve dug myself into too deep a hole.” Genji shrugged, opening his hands as an expression of emptiness. He had nothing left to gamble.

That seemed to come across more clearly for the man next to him. “Oh.” There was a moment of solemn silence for the funds lost. Genji would have been on his way, however, he can certainly say he hadn’t expected this fine fellow to shift closer and offer him a loan.

“You see . . . I have many euros that I find myself in need to lighten my pockets of.” He even patted his coat pockets in emphasis, laughter ringing afterwards at his play on words. “What do you say? Care to help an amigo out this evening?”

Genji did his best to hide that curling smile of his. Apparently his charms hadn’t at all wavered. After all, this suited model of his was meant to be quite pleasing on the eyes as well as bodily. Just a handsome Japanese playboy looking for a night of entertainment—and if it came along—companionship.

This time Genji shifted completely in his seat, twirling until he was frontal with the man coming on to him that night. “I would be honored to help with such troublesome burdens.” He held out a hand, eyes hooded, charming his features. “Nakamura Itaru.” The moment the man across grasped his hand, Genji added, “Though, I’ll undoubtedly need some _supervision_ , or else you may find yourself in as deep of trouble as I am.”

The man smiled at that, pulling Genji’s hand further than necessary for a handshake. He inclined, dark eyes as suggestive as Genji’s were. “Have no fear then. I do not intend to leave your side the entire night.” His lips rubbed against Genji’s knuckles. His layering concealed enough for the man not to notice that a cyborg lay before him. “Diego Blanco-Castro.”

The Spaniard was handsome and very generous. Genji hadn’t expected the man to hand over the sum of euros he had. And despite the amount Genji had lost through the games they brushed through, the man, this Diego Blanco-Castro, obviously had plenty to spare. Not once had he shown disdain or regret over the sums lost to never return. Instead, when Genji’s hands fell empty he was there to replenish them over and over again.

“I had warned you,” Genji replied, a chuckle escaping as he and Diego settled down at a booth where they ordered drinks and observed the entertainment on display on stage.

“Is of no consequence,” Diego replied, waving the loss off as he had through most of the evening. He was seated close to Genji, and as he shifted closer still, Genji made no motion to lean away. “I have been the one rubbed by the graces tonight.” And that was true, Diego had a pretty good night for himself, so his losses at Genji’s hands hadn’t hurt as bad as it would have.

Genji would have been content to end his night like this: pressed close to Diego’s side, intentions obvious. They’d be leaving soon toward the suites. There had been just enough drinks for Genji to slip away when Diego searched for his cardkey.

That had been the plan before a rather rambunctious group of young men stumbled into the seating areas. They were standing near their booth, their noise and demeanors disturbing Genji and Diego’s ability to pay attentive focus on one another.

“Perhaps we should be leaving?” Diego suggested. Using the group’s timing for his own gain. Genji wasn’t going to ignore the hand he felt slide up his back. “This place gets too noisy into the night. I know a place with a much better atmosphere.”

Genji smiled, ready to leave as well. With a nod he agreed to follow Diego’s lead but before either could exit the booth the men suddenly turned, stumbling closer and sliding into the seats.

“Lo siento, cabelleros, I believe you have the wrong booth,” Diego insisted, trying to get the message through their clearly fogged minds.

The men looked at them and then at each other. They laughed as if Mr. Blanco-Castro had worded the best of jokes. It was unnerving to be around so many inhibited individuals who were all well-stocked and physically capable of causing trouble to inanimate objects as well as animate ones, well, at least it was to Diego.

“Nah, I know this is the table the hostess gave us,” one had replied. His words were slurred, and his accent American.

“Yeah, number . . .” Another man spoke up, pausing a moment to glance down at the plate holding the engraved number at the base of the booth. “Twenty-nine. Didn’t she say booth twenty-nine, Paul?”

“Damn right she did,” the one likely titled as “Paul” spoke up afterwards.

“Ah, amigos, it doesn’t matter anymore. My companion and I were just leaving.” Diego tried once more to motion to leave, but the caging men simply wouldn’t let them, and Diego was no doubt falling back into his rattled nerves. A firm hand pressed against his chest, keeping him back.

“Now jus—jus’ hold up, Jose.” One man stood. “I’ll bet you a Franklin that this is our booth.”

“I have had enough gambling this evening. My companion and I would like nothing more than to return to—”

“He thinks you’re lyin’, Paul.”

Genji could see Diego’s skin taking on a lighter shade. He wasn’t so sturdy around these men. “I believe no such thing,” he began to defend himself.

“Then come on. One of us is about to be richer.” “Paul” hadn’t even given Diego another option, simply took him by the arm and hauled him off with the goading and laughter of the other two men.

Their boisterous attitudes certainly died quickly the moment Diego had left the scene. Eyes burned into Genji, and sobriety came on instantly.

“Boss wants to see you.”

Genji didn’t even bother to look at the men sitting either side of him. His gaze bared down, watching the way his fingers idled with the cloth napkin on the table, and the utensils nearby. “Is that so? Then why hasn’t he come to tell me so himself?”

He didn’t need to look to see their smug features. He could hear it in their tone. “It don’t work that way. This is his place, whatever he says is law here, sweetheart.”

The other spoke up, leaning in too close. “Just lettin’ ya know that we don’t mind doin’ this the hard way neither.”

Genji didn’t believe the lackey saw him stab through his nearby hand with the steak knife. His reaction was a little late after all. But Genji certainly loved seeing those eyes enlarge, that cocky mouth widen, and the scream that followed was satisfying.

“I wouldn’t touch me if I were you.” Genji glared back, a smirk lacing his features. “What would your _boss_ say?”

“God . . . dammit!” The man gasped out, struggling to pull the knife out, but the force behind the thrust had embedded it into the table as well. It startled both the men enough to have the one able to back away from the cyborg.

While the commotion was easy to drown out in the atmosphere of the ringing bells, playing bands, and rapturous voices expelled by the thousands of peoples gathered, their encounter was noticed, and the men that approached let the cyborg understand what was to happen to him next.

The irritation wasn’t just for show spewing from Genji as he was escorted by security and the lookouts. He had no intention of being shoved through the doors of the command room that evening. There was a high possibility, but Genji simply played out his plans in order, as of now they weren’t quite linear at all.

With a snort, Genji straightened his mused attire, eyes showing disdain for his predicament, especially when they set their gaze on a particular irritable individual. “This how you treat a paying customer? Horrible customer service.”

Interestingly enough, not an ounce of laughter or a relative thereof came out of one Jesse McCree. He just stood there, arms crossed, stance threatening. But he looked as well-groomed and expensive as ever. “Last I checked, you were over forty grand in debt.”

Genji snickered. “I found a suitable means to return the funds lost.” Perhaps it was his carefree tone that irritated McCree, hell, it likely was something else. Whatever it was, Genji desired to do it again. It wasn’t often he got under the gunslinger’s skin.

“What? By sucking local dick?” Genji could see McCree’s eyes darkening, a dangerous gleam he’s seen before.

Genji laughed, shifting his form. Jesse McCree was jealous. “Would you rather I suck yours?”

“You already know that answer, darlin’.” Genji could have played with the possibilities left open by such a hanging phrase, but he relented.

With a shake of his head he approached the taught American, not even once concerned for his own safety. If a man like Jesse McCree wanted to hurt him, he would have done it before he let Genji’s hands touch his belt.

For McCree’s love of all things expensive and rare, and his knack to keeping with whatever was “in” the style of the popular world, Genji just didn’t understand his love for large and obnoxious belt buckles. Honestly it made him look more like a pimp than a man of power in Genji’s opinion. However, Genji knew it wasn’t his place in that moment to make mention of his thoughts, instead he kept his silence and bowed his head.

McCree wanted silence and that’s what he got. Genji did what had been wanted of him, and after a mouth full of cock he felt gripping fingers tangle themselves into his raven locks.

Through the breathy sighs and grunts coming out of McCree’s mouth, Genji managed to catch the words he got passed his teeth. “What are you doing here in Valencia?”

Genji pulled off the erect phallus, his hand squeezing the base while his lips moved along the shaft, teeth nipping at skin just as the organ began to twitch. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice when you bought out a chain of resorts and gambling houses in Spain?” Genji grinned up at the American, those brown eyes of his looked down, both holding gazes. “I have to make sure you behave in public.”

A small snicker finally made way into the silence. “Do you now?” Eyes fluttered and body shifted with a withheld buck as Genji slid the American’s length back down his throat. “And how’d I do?”

Genji grinned, his tongue running along the underside, rubbing until he pulled back, suckling on the head for a moment. He looked back up at McCree, he was flushed but managed to hold his composure. “If no one gets hurt by you or your associates then I may give you a good grade,” Genji said once he popped himself off of the head, his palm sliding up and down the shaft in compensation for the loss of wet warmth.

McCree hummed, tension fading as Genji unraveled him by taking him in one inch at a time. The hand tangled in Genji’s hair even loosened, the American finally letting the pleasure place him into a more relaxed state of body.

“No one? ‘Cause I can think of one fucker I could do without seeing ‘round here.” Of course Genji knew his monitored actions wouldn’t be without consequence. Ever since his entanglement with this American it’s been the same every time. But through trial and error, Genji’s discerned what can help in his aspirations to protect and what he could do to throw all of his efforts into the wind. Genji knew better than to mosey his way into another’s range, especially in an establishment owned by Deadeye’s pseudonym, but he also knew how to get the Talon agent’s mind off of the offense.

The sighs and groans let Genji know McCree’s mind was more focused on basking in the pleasure of the cyborg at his crotch than on the plethora of ways to make a certain Spaniard vanish from the face of the earth. Finishing him was what he focused on, and to his glee it didn’t take long before he brought the casino owner to his euphoric end.

Genji hadn’t spilled a drop, and even helped secure the limp member back into the confines of the American’s pants.

His eyes held McCree’s as he stood, form pressed close to please with proximity. “Does that wave my owed fees?” Genji’s hand slid up McCree’s vested chest, fingers playing with the golden buttons. The cyborg didn’t at all jump or retaliate to the reaction of a firm hand spanning across his back and pushing him roughly against the American’s torso.

“Darlin’, that only covered part of the cost.” McCree had shifted, switching their forms until Genji was the one turned, seated upon the fine oak desk nestled in the center of the command room. Legs spread without hesitation, not at all minding McCree settling in between. “I’m going to have to require more labor before I can even consider letting you leave.”

That was fine by Genji. At least McCree was distracted enough to forego killing a Diego Blanco-Castro. The man may have been escorted off the premise, but likely for a good reason. Any future run-ins would likely result in a fatality.

The validity that no life was lost under his cause put Genji in a better state to sleep in peace, however, with a bedmate like the infamous Talon agent Deadeye, he didn't allow himself that luxury. He was a cyborg after all, he didn't need much rest, and he was an Overwatch operative; that occupation was 24/7.

He made damn well sure to be attentive to the moment McCree up and left bed. Genji would remain for a moment before pursuing. He knew better now than to chase a man with spurs on his heels.

Getting up, Genji decided firstly to make an attempt to clean himself. A robe was then all he needed for some sort of decency while leaving the master bedroom of the suite and finding McCree's personal office. His entrance, discreet or not, was always caught and each time Genji found himself walking in at the end of a call.

"You reported me." Not that Genji was surprised. As much as he was loyal to Overwatch ideals, so too was Jesse McCree aka Deadeye to Talon's directives.

The chair turned, having the American frontal let Genji read his expressions. There was no falsity in anything he saw in him.

"I informed them you were sighted," McCree made to correct as if what Genji accused of him and what he currently did were completely different things. "The 'when' and 'where' details they can pull out of their asses."

McCree smiled as if pleased with himself. He reached out and took hold of Genji's wrist, tugging him onto the seat with him. The cyborg knew it was best to leave as soon as possible, but straddling the American was becoming too much of a parting ritual that Genji was losing disdain for.

At least Deadeye was distracted, right?

Just as hands slid up thighs, working to fade in-between the fabric of his robe, and McCree leaned forward, lips intent to press and taste whatever they latched onto, that familiar rattle of a communicator buzzed into the space surrounding them. Genji could feel the irritated sigh blow against the length of his neck.

McCree shifted, reaching back and slipping the device into his ear. "What?" Genji found humor at his tone, a sudden desire rising to let Deadeye's bosses know exactly whose company their high-quality agent was keeping. That would serve the man right for all of the times he infuriated the cyborg in the past.

Genji pulled back from that plan of action when he watched McCree's features fall from irritated toward compliant seriousness. Brown eyes turned toward him, that look seen before. Genji knew when McCree wanted him gone, the only time being when he had to ready himself and his men for a heist.

"Alright, fine. I'll be there." The call ended and McCree pulled the earpiece out, tossing it back onto his communications desk. Those hands still placed upon Genji's thigh and back seemed reluctant to leave, fingers tightening and moving. "I'm afraid you've overstayed your welcome, darlin'." Despite Genji knowing he would be forced to leave indefinitely, he could still see the desire and longing for him to stay written across the American's features.

With a nod, Genji shifted himself away and off of McCree's lap. He tightened the robe around him, letting those brown eyes take in the sight of his back. "I will no doubt meet you there."

Retreating, Genji made to return to the master bedroom. No use giving McCree a last glance.

"One of these times it ain't gonna end well for either of us." Genji only allowed himself to pause in his walk slightly. He knew this, understood this, so did McCree, but it was the first time any of them had verbally said so aloud.

Genji let the warning hang in the air, shutting the door behind him to form some form of barrier. The phrase was more than a warning simply because there was no threat in the tone with which McCree used to speak it. It was something both understood but refused to address.

They were both quite content from where they stood across the line.

* * *

 

"That little shit!"

This hadn't been the first time Genji used their bizarre relationship to "overhear" opposing plans or "borrow" confidential coordinates from temporarily unoccupied personal offices. He was an Overwatch agent from sun up to sun down, including the time in between. But, boy, does he make Deadeye's blood pump when he does this.

If there was one thing that irked Deadeye it was "cheating."

Talon had requested Deadeye and his men's expertise to apprehend clusters of meteorite crystals currently on display in Washington D.C. While their plan to infiltrate and slip in unseen and unheard was nearly foolproof, there was one known fact that would always put the outlaws on edge in the possibility of the mission going belly-up, and that was the fact that their boss happened to be fucking a certified Overwatch operative, naturally information slipped or went "missing." It was a wonder why Deadeye got so upset every time a circumstance such as their current predicament happened.

"Boss! We should get outta here!"

"Yeah, boss, they dun saw us comin'!"

They were currently pinned down, a slow shoot-out. But the security forces were quickly gaining ground, allies rounding to close in the cage they had created for Deadeye and his men.

Deadeye snarled, grip tight on his gun. He abhored falling back on the losing side. That wasn't his way. It was not how Deadeye did things.

Instead of red, he saw a flash of green. He barely had enough time to barrel roll his way out of line of those shurikens. He could hear his men cry out from being struck. Turning he watched the ninja fall into the fray, making easy work of his battered men.

When he was the last man standing amongst the pile of incapacitated bodies, that glowing visor looked his way. Deadeye tensed and would deny the fact he took a retreating step back as the Overwatch cyborg approached.

A snicker bounded into the tension, one that might have turned into a full-blown laugh hadn't Deadeye's ribs hurt him. "You think because you managed to sneak behind m'back that you'll somehow gain an upper hand?" Shoulders squared, a position the cyborg ninja knew well. "Hate to disappoint ya, darlin'." With the rest of the security forces pushing in, Deadeye had enough opportunity to slam out back to back shots at the oncoming men. Naturally, Genji shielded and Deadeye slipped away in the mayhem, not without wounds he'd have to nurse and brew over.

That wasn't the first time they almost did each other in and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Genji expected Deadeye's knife in his back as he was certain the American outlaw foresaw the feel of his own blade between his shoulder blades. Yet that never stopped their eyes from looking, their hands from reaching out and touching. Knowing bodily harm was inevitable was no longer such an dissuading hazard to them.

It was unhealthy; what they did, but Genji saw it as a means to persuade to save lives, and Deadeye saw it as a form of dominance and fun. Neither surrendering their professions for their trysts with one another even when near demise encroached.

Just as Deadeye escaped the other side of a prison cell or the wrong end of a grave, so too had Genji found himself crawling out from ruble, from mechanisms that had crushed him in half. He had never seen Angela as frightened of his condition since his early days in this body.

"Genji!" The winged medic tried to make her way towards him but she would do herself a service to keep away. Doomfist pounded the air around, knocking any hero attempting to come to the aid of their crushed friend.

The construction site their struggle against the Talon agents had landed them in was an ideal place to hurdle bars of steel, rain down heavy machinery, and catch an oblivious warrior within the confines of compressors, like Doomfist had so done to Genji.

On the bright side, it was just the lower half of the cyborg's body, nonorganic. He felt the metal teeth come down as much as he felt his body cave in. The smashed sensors continued to spark and attempt to send commands to the rest of his body. It made what survived the crush twitch and ache. Genji was alive, but in pain.

And Doomfist stood near, using Genji's incapacitated state to lure his friends seeking to rescue him.

Mercy couldn't even get close, and Tracer's attempt landed her halfway across the site from a well-aimed strike from Doomfist. D. Va was the next individual to attempt to come to his aid.

"Hang tight, ninja bro! I'll have this standoff in the bag in no time!"

Genji wanted to tell her, to tell the others, to fall back, too many had failed and too much of a underestimating push could result in death, deaths he didn't want to be responsible for. After all, Doomfist wasn't the only Talon operative in the vicinity. Widowmaker had been confirmed and was currently engaged with Soldier: 76. Deadeye was another face confirmed, Genji could hear the sound of his guns going off, wondering who met the unfortunate end of those barrels.

He hated feeling useless, but he more so hated putting his friends' lives in danger. Watching D. Va ram her meka into Doomfist, pushing him into the nearest building, had Genji in a worry over her life. He knew she could hold her own, but that did not stop him from twitching each time he heard her grunt and unload her ammunition.

"Genji!"

The cyborg turned his attention away from D. Va's duel with Doomfist and looked to see a familiar face near. Winston.

The gorilla placed both his hands into the compressor and tried his best to unhitch it. The machine groaned and moaned and the pressure eased a little, but it would take a lot more time and effort than Winston could currently give.

"Leave me," Genji insisted, his gaze wandered toward the battle raging at hand. "D. Va has engaged with Doomfist, she will need assistance." Winston looked conflicted, but Genji persisting in getting his mind to where the priorities were. "I am unable to carry on, my body is destroyed. Those able need to meet the bastards with everything they have. Leave me, Winston."

There was another moment of hesitation as the scientist contemplated the words Genji had said to him. Luckily his sensors were shot when Winston finally decided to let go of the compressor. He didn't feel a thing when the slates crushed him again. He only focused watching Winston off to confront Doomfist.

The battle turned sour when Talon reinforcements barreled in to keep Overwatch and their allied authorities in the city from apprehending their top agents. And as they were chased, Genji was left alone.

His state wasn't good. It was growing harder to keep his life support stable when a majority of his cybernetics were destroyed. His vision wasn't properly focusing and his breathing slowing to a pace where it was a struggle to find a breath to catch. He needed Dr. Ziegler.

With energy diverting toward other prominently important functions, Genji's receptors barely picked up the footfall of an approaching individual.

"Heh, you always get yourself into impossible situations."

Genji's vision wasn't as focused, but he could still make out the shape of Reaper. The man stood before him, expressionless with that white mask. Genji was already much too weak to voice opposition, but his body tensed in the shadow-man's presence, especially when he pulled out a shotgun.

The cyborg wasn't certain how he's managed to evade any bullet to the face, he was just as curious as the others, especially when he watched Reaper turn his gun away and spray the jammed controls with his ammunition. Another gun that never fired to kill him.

The compressor creaked and stuttered before it all but stilled. It was unlocked.

Brown eyes blinked in weak confusion when he watched Reaper toss his gun and shift closer, mist circulating around him as he pressed his claws between the folds of the compressor and pulled. Dark matter surrounded them until the compressor was pried open and Genji was pulled free of its weighted crush.

Genji certainly had no ability to move. He could only lay there, staring up at the man who saved him from his prison. Perhaps he would have offered questions had he the ability to speak, but even still, the silence surrounding them was disturbed with the chime of spurs.

Reaper straightened. He hadn't even bothered to turn to the approaching comrade. Instead, Genji only watched the two agents interact on unsteady ground.

"Why aren't you back at pick-up?" Reaper questioned, finally turning his head towards the cowboy who stood just as tense and silent as he. "Those were the orders."

"I don't need no cleanup," Deadeye spoke up. Genji could see danger in the man's eyes, all of it aimed towards Reaper.

"I'm not here for that," was Reaper's response. He took one glance down at where Genji lay, struggling to breathe, but the cyborg never took his sight off of the two.

When Reaper moved he made to leave, his shoulder purposely brushed against Deadeye's in a silent command to follow his lead. "Get your hand off your gun, Deadeye. I'm leaving, and so should you." He motioned his head back toward the ninja. "His friends will be here soon, and I'm not really interested in combating them at the moment."

There wasn't another word exchanged. Reaper simply left.

A moment later Deadeye finally decided to heed his fellow operative's advice. As soon as he pulled his eyes away from Genji's poor state the cyborg watched him vanish into the night.

Genji had about lost all remaining support functions by the time Dr. Ziegler managed to return to him. She was fast in transporting him back to base and replacing his support system. He received the most damage out of the battered squad, but everyone breathed a sigh of relief once he was fully functional again.

Angela wanted him to rest, instead Genji departed the medical wing and left the base altogether. He told himself he sought out Deadeye's location because he was worried of things he might have done in Genji's absence away from monitoring him. It was as reasonable an intention to go to him.

From routine, Genji knew where Deadeye was likely to retreat once he obtained time to himself. His casino in Santa Fe, New Mexico was his favorite, and if Genji managed to lose his location then he'd find him there or only have to bide his time before the outlaw hung up his hat again.

Deadeye was casino owner Jesse McCree this time, foregoing lounging on his private balcony to seating himself on the building's rooftop, legs dangling off like he hadn't a care in the world. From observation, Genji understood he liked smoking up there, as he did often anywhere else in the world. A habit from stakeouts and heists no doubt.

Genji's landing was quiet, his approach quieter, but he knew McCree noticed him. Those distant brown eyes blinked into focus, turning as the cyborg neared the American's left side.

With a dab of his cigar, McCree inhaled a long puff, leaning back slightly as he did so. The smoke was blown into the night air, catching on all the glimmering lights of the city. Jesse McCree was now turned to the cyborg, attention fully on him.

"I swear I was up to no good while you were indisposed." McCree bit down on the butt of his smoke with his chuckling laughter.

Genji shook his head, finding a place to settle nearby the man. "You are getting worse at lying." McCree frowns at that comment. "Reports state Deadeye has been inactive for a little over three weeks." The same amount of time it took for Angela to properly piece Genji back together. "I'd say that's a new record."

Genji wanted to laugh at McCree's sudden bout of laziness but the bubbling expression was cut short the moment McCree reached out, his fingers brushing against the cyborg's helmet. While the touch was common enough, Genji still made to flinch back, always on alert for the possibility of a threat. But he stopped himself, allowing McCree to find the latches and take off his facial covering. Genji wasn't quite certain why he couldn't pull his gaze up. Perhaps he just never got used to someone desiring to see his face so often.

"The upper half was undamaged. My entire cybernetic lower portion had to be removed and replaced." Genji rubbed his thighs, his gaze still looking at his idle hands, unable for some reason to look up and see just why McCree was staring. The American hadn't even moved that hand of his.

It took a moment longer before McCree even moved away, seemingly turning his attention back to his cigar in hand. “Good,” came his late reply. “It’d be a mighty shame if you were taken off the board.”

Amber eyes rose to look at the American just next to him. It was growing harder to determine the man’s thoughts, and yet possibly easier at the same time. “What, growing fond of me?” Genji didn’t like that he wasn’t answered right away with a quick retort. He especially didn’t like when McCree nonchalantly replied in part, “Maybe I am.”

The cigar smoke was heavy around them, and the silence abounding grew just as heavy. Genji needed to leave. He came to make sure Deadeye was in line, he had been, and so no further prodding was necessary.

Standing, without a word Genji made his intent to leave with or without some form of farewell from McCree.

“I’ve been thinkin’ . . .”

Genji nearly slid off the rooftop. He halted, turning his attention back to McCree, the man still working on his cigar, eyes zoned into the city lights before them. It was hard to read them with such a vivid shine gleaming in them.

A breath of smoke exhaled into the air before McCree continued. “I’m a man of simple tastes. It doesn’t take much to satisfy me.” Sure, if the love for the highest quality bourbon, and need to keep personal tailors on-call was a means to identifying one’s self as having “simple tastes.” “Always’ve been a hard workin’ man. Hell, I may complain once in a while, but I get my chores done.” Another understatement, Genji noted.

McCree finally turned to look toward Genji. Brown eyes boring into the cyborg’s optics. “All in all, I live a pretty well-to-do life. Not much regrets I can think of.” The honesty and lack of remorse for past victims astounded Genji, not that he should be surprised in the least. “And I certainly don’t plan to pull the reigns back on the horse I’ve hopped onto any time soon.”

McCree didn’t need to say this. Genji knew and understood. The American relished in his criminal lifestyle. If not vocalized, then his actions certainly showed just how much of a pace he would keep. So then why was he telling this mock rendition of a confession to him?

A sigh of a lung-full of smoke and McCree pulled his cigar away, his interest in finishing it gone. He looked toward Genji in that pausing moment, his jaw clenching as if trying to come up with the words he’d further use.

“I don’t like to consider myself a selfish man, per say, but lately I do believe I’ve picked up a cumbersome habit. Now, don’t get me wrong, I sure as hell enjoy fightin’ your sorry _heroic_ organization. Puttin’ holes in your friends is a personal delight for me.” There was that sharp Deadeye smile as the American placed his hand over his heart in a motion of sincerity, and right then Genji contemplated on just leaving the man there. He could, but he stayed because he knew McCree wasn’t finished with this monologue of his. “However, it ain’t near as fun if you aren’t there to take a whack at me and my partners. Take it as a compliment, Genji; here I see it that you’re the life of the party.” There was a pause, Genji wondered if he should say something, if he should then what? The thought was buried away when McCree carried on, tone lower, less of a tease, and more of an honest statement. “It’s the same when you’re in my resorts. Ya always look so nice. It gets so hard to keep everyone’s hands off of you.” With a head shake, the corner of McCree’s lips curled just slightly, his hard gaze perhaps softening in the night. “What I wouldn’t give to see you more often.”

“You see me more than many of my comrades,” Genji finally replied, feeling the need to verify such a fact as quickly as possible before assumptions were made and a twisted sense of guilt was played upon.

A fuller smile tugged on McCree’s features. “You see, I’ve told you I’ve become more selfish.” He shifted, standing. “And if you want to do the same, I may not find myself so against than I would have before.”

Dark brows furrowed. Genji shifted, his body tensing as he watched the American rise. “Stop being so cryptic, _McCree_.”

“How is that being cryptic, darlin’? I want to see more of ya.” Hands motioned outward to verify his intentions, but Genji just wasn’t certain on how to react. “I want you to be mine.” And certainly Genji didn’t know what to say in return, whether negatively or positively.

Genji finally managed to press out that sigh that had been stuck in his throat. “That will not work.”

“’Course not.” Naturally McCree would reply like that. “But it’s what I want.”

Genji felt his fight or flight instinct begin to rise, the reaction leaning more toward the latter. This conversation wasn’t heading anywhere Genji assumed it would upon this visit. And he wasn’t certain on how to handle it.

His silence and hesitation was noted. McCree was frowning. With a shift, the American reached into his vest and then tossed something toward the ninja. Genji caught it with off-handed reflexes and looked at the small box in his palm.

“I supposed someone like you’d want to do it the proper way,” McCree spoke up.

Genji opened the box. Sure enough; there was a ring inside.

“What you say? You think you’d do me the unfortunate means to tie me down to one bedmate?” Genji looked toward McCree, silent. He was closer than before. “I can’t promise you I won’t kill you in the near or distant future, on account of our occupations and all, but I can offer you my word that I’ll try my damnedest to cherish your company before it comes to that.” Genji still hadn’t uttered a word, not even when McCree reached forward and plucked up the ring and held it out before the cyborg as if the shiny and dazzling object would entice him to give in to the American’s whims. “How’s about being my partner in crime?”

Genji excused his following punch to McCree’s pretty face on the account of his last statement. After all, it wasn’t wrong to strike a criminal. Watching the man topple to the ground was always a pleasure, and this certainly wouldn’t be the last well-aimed fist he’d give to that damn face.

While McCree groaned and grunted below, shaking off his daze from the surprise punch, Genji idly examined the offered ring he had caught just as the American fell by his attack. It was beautiful workmanship, and he could tell McCree had spent a pretty penny on it. However, if Genji discovered this was indeed stolen he’d find more than one way to kill the American outlaw.


End file.
